


Meet the Parents

by TheEchoingSoul



Category: Ib (Video Game)
Genre: Awkwardness, F/M, Family, Lunch, Promise of Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:00:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1607687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEchoingSoul/pseuds/TheEchoingSoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Promise of Reunion. Garry finally meets Ib's parents and they have lunch together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meet the Parents

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Ib.

Garry nervously fidgeted with his jacket, wondering if he should take it off or not. He glance sideways at his reflection in a store’s window to assess himself before he started to mess with his hair and jacket again. It was almost August, and it was too humid out for the heavy article of clothing, but Garry couldn’t stop himself from wearing it. It seemed to fit that he would wear it on that particular day.

In exactly fifteen minutes and twenty-seven seconds, Garry would meet Ib’s parents. He had exchanged numbers with Ib nearly a month beforehand. It was earlier that week that she had finally called, asking him to come over to meet her parents so that they could freely hang out and eat macaroons like he promised. Her father had talked with him and set up the date and time that worked for both of them, which was Friday at noon. Garry would have lunch with them and then they would go from there. All week Garry had waited for Friday, and now that it was finally here, he was freaked out maybe more than when Mary charged him with a palette knife or when he was stuck in the doll room.

Paintings and creepy dolls from another world were one thing, but Ib’s parents were real people who could either force them apart or allow them to be friends. People are also a lot trickier.

Garry wasn’t good with knowing the difference between a salad fork and a dessert fork, nor was he well versed in proper etiquette of the elite. Ib’s parents could dislike him for various reasons: his hair colour (natural, but people can be weird about this), his appearance, his manners, his age compared to Ib’s, or even his personality! Garry had to take deep breaths to calm himself down, but the closer he drew to his destination and the people that could make or break his relationship with Ib, the more his worry and fear escalated until he was ready to throw up.

In less time than he would have liked, Garry arrived at Ib’s home. He all but sighed in relief that she didn’t live in some large antique mansion, but a four story house with a veranda, wrap around porch, and a beautiful garden with small statues and white brick to keep it contained. There was a path that led to the porch with opposing lines of what he guessed were tulips and violets. He crossed the lawn slowly, drinking the scenery in before reaching the front door.

He could see Ib’s red eyes staring out of the glass of the door seconds before it was thrown open and he was nearly swept off his feet by one nine-year girl. She latched tightly onto his waist and dangled a little, excited to see him after so long.

He returned her hug with a smile and hoarse laugh, “Hey, it hasn’t been that long has it?”

“It has,” Ib simply stated while releasing him from her death grip. She gave him a nervous, but happy smile that Garry found adorable, before leading him inside by the hand.

Garry was instructed to take his shoes off in the doorway, but relinked his hand with Ib’s after he was finished, and was then led through the hallway. He politely glanced around, taking in the home’s grandeur yet homely feel. The molding and paint jobs were first rate, the wood rich and polished, and then there was the artwork that was arranged tastefully on the walls. From the ones he’d seen, Garry ranged the painting from early impressionists to more modern works. He silently consented that Ib’s parents had impeccable taste in art as each piece gave him pause before he would tear himself away to look at the next one.

Ib let Garry take his time. She knew her parents needed another few minutes to finish lunch, and that Garry had arrived earlier than expected by nine minutes. Ib was quite happy with herself as her parents would usually call upon their housekeeper, Daria, to make lunch for something like this, but Ib’s insistence had won and they were cooking. It wouldn’t be anything too fancy, but it meant more that they were putting in the effort. Her parents had been rather worried that Ib had made friends with a stranger older than herself and even more surprised when she told them she wanted to hang out with Garry again as he had invited her to try macaroons with him.

Their first response had been to drill her on the rules of stranger danger until Ib finally got through to them that Garry had saved her, which wasn’t a lie as Garry helped her get out of the Fabricated World. After much persistence, tears that only Ib (a previously quiet and antisocial-ish child) could cry finally convinced her parents to start considering the prospect of having a meet-and-greet with the teen that helped their daughter.

It had taken another week before her father had finally agreed to have a lunch-in so that they could meet this Garry fellow and decide if they could continue being friends. Her mother had even stated that, “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to meet the young man, but if he doesn’t sit well with me...” She had let her threat hang out in the open before switching the topic to something else.

Ib led Garry to the dining room where four places had been set earlier. She gestured for him to take a seat before taking the one next to him.

“How have you been since the... exhibit?” Garry asked, careful to avoid any phrases that could alert Ib’s parents-who he had a feeling were listening in from the kitchen-that something more than their cover story had happened.

“Better,” Ib finally replied, but Garry could tell that there was something off by taking one look into her vermillion coloured eyes.

“It’s alright to have nightmares about traumatic experiences, even I have quite a few.” He waited for Ib’s silent nod of confirmation before continuing, “It’ll take some time, but things will get better.”

Ib leaned over and hugged Garry around the shoulders, silently thanking him for the reassurance. Ever since they had come back from Fabricated World, she had had nightmares about Mary burning, Garry dying, and being alone. Many times she had abruptly awoken only to cry and other times she simply clutched Garry’s number and reassured herself that everything was going to be alright, they had survived.

Garry knew where Ib was coming from, having had nightmares due to their experience as well, but also knew that certain ones grew easier with the passing of time and knowledge that they could no longer affect him.

“Lunch is ready,” Ib’s father suddenly interrupted. He placed down a rather large circular platter of finger sandwiches down on to the table.

“D-do you need help with anything, sir?” Garry asked. He had risen to his feet, but the man stopped him with a shake of his head. “No, thank you. We’ve got this much handled. I’m Ib’s father. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Garry.”

The two shook hands as Garry nervously stumbled over his words, “T-thank you and thank you for having me over.”

“Don’t worry, I was also nervous the first time I met my wife’s family.”

Garry started to nod, but then paused as his brain processed the possible implications that man was making, and then his face started turning red. Ib checked his temperature with hers as her father walked out of the room to grab another dish.

“Should I open a window?” Ib offered, vaguely gesturing to the structure. Garry looked at the glass and contemplated on making an escape VIA window for a moment before the backyard caught his attention.

It was prettier than the front yard with intricate patterns on flowers, a patio, a rock path, and-in the distance-he could faintly make out what seemed to be a gazebo between two magnolia trees.

His attention was called back to the table upon the arrival of Ib’s parents who placed down a pitcher of lemonade, a bowl of salad, another of fruit with yogurt at the center to dip it in, and then a small platter of homemade chocolate chip cookies with a few sugar ones mixed in.

Once seated properly, Ib’s mother extended her hand for Garry to shake, “I’m Ib’s mother, it’s nice to finally put a face to your name, Garry.”

“Thank you for inviting me, ma’am,” Garry replied and managed to keep his voice from flickering due to nerves.

“With how much Ib talks about you, it’s hard to imagine that we haven’t been properly introduced beforehand,” the woman dished a small portion of salad onto her plate as she talked, “So, how did you meet our daughter?”

Garry thanked whatever deity or God was out there that he and Ib had discussed their cover story before all this happened. “We met at the Guertena Art Exhibit nearly a month ago. Someone was pestering her and I just happened to notice and step in.”

“We thank you for that,” Ib’s father gratefully said while pointedly looking at his wife-who only lightly smiled and closed her eyes to hide her mirth-for a moment as he continued, “We had never thought that Ib would encounter such a crude character at an art exhibit.”

“Yes, now Garry, Ib mentioned you were how old again, seventeen?”

“No ma’am, I’m fifteen.” Garry corrected.

“I see, so what high school are you attending currently?”

For the next eleven minutes of his life, Garry was questioned mercilessly while sweating on the inside as he answered each one to the best of his abilities. He could have kissed Ib when she finally interjected to point out that the food had started to warm up and that the guest hadn’t even been able to take a bite of his meal due to the barrage of questions.

There was one issue with this though, Garry could not discern between the salad fork and dessert fork that had been set before him. He glanced sideways at Ib who was already deliberately taking measures to clue him in.

Ib’s parents watched their interactions and nearly smiled when Ib would verbally tell Garry something while demonstrating how to use one of the assortments of utensils at the table. Garry would clumsily follow her movements while keeping up with the conversation. It was baffling to the  parents that their daughter and some boy had only met once nearly a month ago, but had a very close friendship. It had irked them at first that Garry was six years older than their daughter, but Ib had never been very outspoken about things she wanted and often was shy around kids her own age, so it had surprised them greatly when she had insisted about seeing this Garry fellow again.

Ib’s father had believed it would be another few years before he would have to worry about hormonal boys going after his daughter, but he was proven wrong. He felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him, but knew he would never have the heart to shoot anyone...though Garry didn’t know that.

Ib’s mother, on the other hand, seemed to be taking it all well. She had been satisfied with Garry’s honest answers to her questions and the fact that Garry didn’t appear to have any ill or perverse intentions towards Ib. The woman considered herself a reasonable judge of character as she was a business woman, and her instinct told her that Garry was a decent guy. Besides, the teen reminded her of her husband when they first met. He had been so awkward and cute. It had been fun and painfully easy to tease him.

The woman praised her daughter for reeling in such a fine catch, though Ib would have to be sixteen before she would ever consent to them dating. It would give them both time to think through their feelings, experiment a little, and then decide if they should take the next leap or just stay friends. Either way, Garry made Ib happy and, as a mother, all she wanted was to see her daughter smile and maybe have cute lavender-haired grandchildren with red eyes.

Time had flown by and it wasn’t until almost three o’clock that anyone truly noticed how late it was getting. Garry thanked everyone-again-for inviting him, was told that he had their seal of approval, gave Ib a few hugs and some more advice, was denied when he asked if he could help clean up the dishes, and was then led to the door by Ib’s father.

“I hope to see you again, Garry.” He glanced back into the house to make sure his wife and daughter weren’t in hearing range before taking a step closer to Garry (which didn’t make much of a difference as Garry was tall for his age and nearly towered over him), “but remember this: hurt my baby girl and I will be forced to take my old hunting rifle out of the closet and hunt you down-”

He froze at the sudden presence of his wife right behind him. She gave him a blankly pointed stare-Which Garry now knew where Ib got it from-before she did a one-eighty upon turning towards him, “Next Thursday we’re going to need someone here to watch Ib from two until six.”

“I’ll be sure to be here, ma’am. Thank you, again.” Garry replied with a smile, and now looked forward to next Thursday.

As he walked away, Garry heard Ib’s father being scolded and then something about lavanderette grandchildren that made him pick up his pace in embarrassment. However, Garry had to admit that things had gone a whole lot better than he had expected.

**  
**


End file.
